Blame it on Peer Pressure.

Let no stranger intrude here, no invader trespass. This was ours, and this we would defend.

So I found myself telling my own stories. It was strange: as I did it I realised how much we get shaped by our stories. It's like the stories of our lives make us the people we are. If someone had no stories, they wouldn't be human, wouldn't exist. And if my stories had been different I wouldn't be the person I am.

At that age you think boys have as much personality as coat hangers and, you don't notice their looks. Then you grow up.

We'd thought that we were among the first humans to invade this basin, but humans had invaded everything, everywhere. They didn't have to walk into a place to invade it.

Sometimes I think I'd rather be frightened than bored. At least when you're frightened you know you're alive.

Silence, always my fortress, sometimes my prison